


I'm Not Alone

by AuthorAlex97 (Sweetie_Curfy)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Crying, DID/OSDD, DID/OSDD AU, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Gen, Otherwise Specified Dissociative Disorder, Switching, based on personal experience, child alters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:14:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21928792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetie_Curfy/pseuds/AuthorAlex97
Summary: Thomas has always been a bit of a wild card. One day, Joan learns why.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 261





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is,,, based on my own experience with being a system. Surprise…? But um, yeah. I tried my best to be accurate. Also! In this universe, Sanders Sides as a series doesn’t exist. Thomas’s fandom growth comes from Cartoon Therapy!

Thomas had always been kind of a wild card.

It wasn’t anything that ever too weird to be questioned, but it didn’t go unnoticed—at least not by Joan. From the foods he ate to how he responded to certain sore spots, it was almost like he could never decide on anything.

Maybe they’d just picked it up from being best friends for so long, as no one else seemed to catch on. But they noticed.

They never thought anything of it, though. Sure, it was a little bit more than most people, but it was just a quirk, right? Everyone had things that made them unique. Thomas’s just happened to be that one day he’d despise Game of Thrones and the next day binge the whole series, or he’d buy six plushies at once only to leave them packed away in a closet by the end of the night. That wasn’t any worse than how they would spend full weekends sitting in a coffee shop just to people watch every once in a while.

So, yeah. Thomas was a wild card. But it never stopped Joan from being best friends with him.

* * *

Of course, there were still times when he surprised even _them._

Joan was a little late getting into work that morning due to having to take Talyn to the doctor, so by the time they got to the office, everyone else had their headphones on and their computers running. It was an editing day. Joan wasn’t upset about missing the first couple of hours.

One look around the office told them that they weren’t the only one missing, though. They paused when they saw whose chair was empty.

Thomas’s.

Raising an eyebrow, they leaned over and tapped Camden on the shoulder. “Um… Where’s Thomas?”

Camden looked over at his desk. “Huh, I don’t know,” he replied, frowning. “He was here earlier. Maybe he’s getting coffee?”

Joan nodded slowly and set their stuff down. “I’ll check. Thanks.”

They quickly made their way to the kitchen, and sure enough, as soon as they opened the door, they spotted Thomas sitting at the table. He was hunched over his phone with his back to them; he made no indication that he heard the door, so Joan walked up and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Morning, Thom—”

Thomas leapt out of his seat.

Tear tracks lead up to wide, puffy eyes and a set of terrified pupils. His hair was ruffled in every direction, and his hands trembling. His breaths came out in short spurts as he stared at Joan, fearful.

“Thomas?” they muttered. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Thomas stumbled back a step, curling around himself further. His eyes stayed glued to the ground as he shook his head. Joan held up their hands, staying in place.

“Anxiety attack?” they softly asked.

Thomas shook his head again and sniffled, despite his breathing being erratic and trembling.

“Okay, well… Let’s do some breathing exercises anyway, okay, Thomas? Just to help you calm down?”

Face screwing up, he shook his head, more violent than ever this time. His thumb shot to his mouth as he slid into a chair and curled up.

“I’m… ‘M not… T-Thomas,” he stuttered.

Joan blinked.

“…I don’t understand,” they admitted.

A sob broke through, and he buried his face. “I- I- I’m not Thomas! I’m not s’pposed to be here!” he whimpered.

Confusion rippled through them, but they shoved it aside as hard as they could to crouch in front of him. They put their hands on his knees and tried to look him in the eyes as best as they could. “I don’t know what you mean, bud,” they quietly spoke. “Can you explain?”

“I-I can’t,” he choked.

“Okay. That’s okay,” Joan replied. “Can you breathe with me for a little bit, please?”

It took a few minutes for Joan to get him to calm down, and even when they did, the tears didn’t stop. But it was a start. At some point, he wormed his hand into Joan’s grip, and they held it tight.

The two sat in silence for a long while before he spoke up again.

Letting out a great sniffle, he used his free hand to wipe at his nose. “Thomas ‘s a system.”

Joan wished they were a little quicker to come up with a response in that moment, but they were shocked into silence. Luckily, he continued to speak after a beat.

“Thomas ‘nd Lo wanted to tell you. And—And I wasn’t s’pposed to say that, but I don’t know where anyone else is, ‘nd I’m not supposed to be out at work and I don’t know what to do—!”

“Hey, hey, shh, it’s alright,” Joan whispered, finding their voice. They rubbed little circles into his hand. “A system? Like DID?”

“Mm-hm. But we’re… O… OD…”

“OSDD?”

He nodded.

Joan inspected his face carefully, resisting the urge to reach up and wipe the tears away. “So you’re… an alter?”

To their horror, his face screwed up again, and tears dripped down his cheeks. “I-I-I’m sorry! I’m doing bad!”

“No, no, no! It’s okay, it’s okay!”

“But you’re gonna judge u-us!” he sobbed.

Joan tightened their grip on his hand. “No, never! It’s… a lot to take in, but I’m not judging. I promise.”

He hiccupped and looked at them. “A-Are you mad…?”

“No. Not at all,” they firmly reassured. “Can you tell me who you are, though? Or at least how old you are?”

There was a long moment of hesitation, and then he held up an open-five handshape. Joan nodded.

“You’re five?”

He nodded.

“Okay. Not comfortable giving your name?”

He shook his head.

“Okay,” they sighed. “How about… a nickname? Just so I can tell you and Thomas apart?”

He was quiet for a long moment.

“…Anxiety.”

* * *

Joan and Anxiety ended up spending the next few hours in the room where they stored costumes. It was a comfortable room with a nice couch and the easy excuse of them working on designs for the day, even though Joan just gave him some copy paper and pencils to draw on, and he opted to sit on the floor. Joan themself brought their laptop with them to get some _actual_ work done.

They’d realized pretty quick that Anxiety wasn’t lying about not knowing what to do at work, but at the same time, they weren’t too comfortable with the idea of leaving a five-year-old at home alone like this. So they figured out what the best compromise could be.

Around two o’clock, Anxiety suddenly froze up, a line halfway finished. Joan looked up to see him staring blankly at the carpet.

“…Anxiety?”

His eyes fluttered.

Suddenly, his posture shifted, and he frowned, looking down at the pencil in his hand. His eyes flickered around for a moment before they landed on Joan.

A horrified look spread across his face.

“…I am _so_ sorry,” he said.

Joan set their laptop to the side and slid down to the floor. “You back to Thomas?”

Thomas hesitated. “I… yyyes?”

“You don’t sound too sure about that,” they replied.

Thomas let out a small groan and rubbed at his eyes. “I… I think I am. Or I’m Logan. Or we’re co-con. I… something like that. I don’t know.”

Joan nodded, and then the two fell into silence.

“Look, I’m really sorry,” Thomas blurted out after a moment. “I have absolutely no idea what happened today. That’s not how I wanted you to find out about this.”

“It’s okay. No harm done, man,” they reassured. “I’m sure it’s not… an easy thing to talk about.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, he leaned back against the couch. “…No. It’s not,” he said. “But… all of our system has been wanting to say something for a while. Our Gatekeeper just wanted a plan, and we were struggling to agree on one.”

“How many of you are there?”

Thomas paused. “Um… At least seven,” he slowly answered. “I think there’s more of us, I just haven’t met them yet.”

Nodding again, Joan leaned back and put their hands on their lap. Words rolled around in their head until they could piece them together. “Your little was really freaked out,” they eventually muttered.

“I know,” Thomas whispered. “I… Logan and I were doing… something. I don’t remember.” He placed his head in his hands. “I’m sorry we kind of forced you into taking care of him.”

Joan shrugged. “It wasn’t a problem. I was more worried than anything.” They looked at him. “Is he… okay?”

Thomas’s eyes glossed over, and his mouth opened just a bit. There was a long moment where all he could say was “um” and blink hard.

“…Yyyyyyeah,” he finally replied, squeezing his eyes shut. “He’s… with the Memory Holder. A little shaken, but he’s okay.” Scrubbing his eyes, he turned his face away. “Sorry, I’m… I’m still kinda… switching…”

“That’s okay,” they said. “I’m glad to know he’s okay. And that _you’re_ okay.”

A soft smile formed on Thomas’s face.

“Thanks for trusting me with this, even if it wasn’t how you wanted me to find out,” Joan added. “You know I’m always here for you, right? All of you.”

Thomas looked at them, and then he leaned over and dropped his forehead onto their shoulder.

“We know. Thank you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joan receives a text from Thomas asking them to come over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am,,, super aware how rushed this chapter seems. Apologies!! I just wanted to get it out before the New Year!!! Thank you all so, so much for reading part one and being so interested!!! It means a lot!!!

_New Message from: Tommy Salommy  
_ _-Joan?_

_Reply sent:  
_ _-sup_

_New Message from: Tommy Salommy  
_ _-I need to speak with you on a matter regarding my OSDD system. Would you like to meet up for lunch?_

_Reply sent:  
_ _-Yeah of course, is everything ok???_

_New Message from: Tommy Salommy  
_ _-Everything is fine. I just want to properly explain what we weren’t able to the other day, if you would be comfortable with that._

_Reply sent:  
_ _-thats fine. ill be over in a few_

_New Message from: Tommy Salommy  
_ _-Excellent. Drive safe._

_—–_

The second Thomas opened the door, he held out his hand. “I believe it’s time we had a proper introduction. My name is Logan.”

Joan stumbled and blinked for a moment, but they did their best to recover quickly and shook his hand. “Uh, Joan. Nice to meet you,” they replied.

“Well, technically speaking, we’ve met several times before. However, I do appreciate the pleasantry.” Logan adjusted his glasses and lead them inside.

Wait.

“What’s with the glasses?”

Joan turned the corner in time to watch Logan pull the glasses off of his face and glance them over. “Well, plural dissociative disorders affect more than just… ‘the mind,’ so to speak. It also impacts certain physical aspects of the body,” he explained, “such as our vision. Patton and I, though we do not share the same prescription, share this pair of glasses.”

“Patton?” Joan asked.

“Our Memory Holder. He is also the one to most often take care of Virgil, whom you met the other day,” Logan continued. He put his glasses back on and gestured to the stove. “Would you like some Pesto Gnocchi? I admit that I am not the best cook, but I attempted as well as I could.”

They nodded and came forward, grabbing a plate out of the cabinet as they did. “Is this the Hello Fresh stuff from this week?”

“Indeed.”

The two got their food and moved to the table, and they ate in silence for a moment. Logan had been right about not being the best at cooking—the pasta was a little underdone, and the mushrooms definitely burnt –but at least it was edible. Joan wondered if the wrong prescription glasses had anything to do with it.

“So… What’s your role in the system, again?” they asked.

Logan set his fork down. “I take on the role of Gatekeeper, meaning that I am in control of who is fronting, or controlling the body, and who is allowed into certain areas inside our Inner World. Thomas and I had agreed that I was supposed to be the one to explain everything to you, as I have done the most research out of us all.”

“Oh,” they said, “So _you’re_ the one who let Anxiety be in control the other day?”

His face turned a brilliant shade of red before he shot them a glare. “Well, I _did_ leave someone _else_ in control,” he snapped, “But it seemed _he_ chose to ignore his orders and allow Virgil to be forced into the front. I can’t be there _all_ the time when there are more issues to be addressed.”

Laughing, Joan held up their hands. “Alright, alright! An honest mistake, I get it!”

“It _was._ Alters are in no way perfect; we’re all just as prone to error as anyone else.” He stabbed a piece of pasta. “Also, it was not _my_ mistake. It was our Protector’s.”

“Okay,” Joan giggled, “I understand.”

“Since we are on the topic, however, I suppose we should discuss what I invited you over for.”

“And that is?”

“Our OSDD.” Logan set his fork down again and adjusted his posture, folding his hands in front of him. “Joan, I—we— _Thomas_ has Otherwise Specified Dissociative Disorder, Type 1b. There are multiple people living inside of our head. I understand this might come as a disturbance to you, but I can assure you that it is _nothing_ like the movies and media you may have consumed about systems. There is nothing dangerous about us, nor hardly any other system that exists.”

“Media portrayals can be a real bitch,” Joan replied, leaning back in their seat.

Logan raised his eyebrows. “You certainly aren’t wrong about that. If you are… freaked out, so to speak, about this new information, it is… completely understandable, if you do not wish to remain friends.” His voice and shoulders lowered, and his eyes flicked away. “We will not hold it against you.”

_That_ sent a wave of shock and sadness rippling through their stomach.

Joan furrowed their brow, frowning deeply as they looked Logan over. His lips were pressed tight together, and his head tilted down and away. All of his muscles were tensed as if waiting for the worst. Fingernails dug into his hands; breaths were short, yet calculatedly quiet.

It seemed to them that Logan was expecting rejection, but for the life of them, they couldn’t figure out _why._ They thought they’d always been supportive and clear that they were going to stick by his side no matter what; hell, _especially_ the other day, they’d been extra careful to prove to Anxiety—Virgil? –that they weren’t going to be upset. Had they done something wrong?

Or… Or maybe Thomas had done this song and dance before, and whoever was in their current place had been less than kind. Maybe he’d just gone through some things that caused some trust issues, or—

Oh. _Oh._

It was in that moment that they remembered what caused DID and OSDD in the first place.

Severe, persistent childhood trauma.

Trust issues suddenly didn’t seem too wild an idea anymore.

“Logan…”

Joan leaned forward and tilted their head to catch his eye; when he looked up, they reached out and put their hand on his.

“I am _not_ going anywhere,” they firmly stated. “I said it the other day, and I’ll say it again: I’m always here for you. And I mean always. So what if there are more of you than I’d thought? That’s not going to change how much I love you. I’m happy that you trusted me with this information, but I _never_ want you to feel like I’m going to leave any of you behind over this.”

Logan’s lip wobbled, and he quickly bit down on it. They rubbed a circle into his hand and offered a soft smile.

“I love you. _All_ of you. Okay?” they said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded. “Okay,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, soft smiles lingering on each of their faces as they soaked in the moment.

And then, a huge grin nearly split Logan’s face in half.

He yanked his hands away and jumped to his feet, slamming his palms on the table. “Can I give you a hug?!”

Joan flinched a bit, but they recovered as quick as they could. “Uh… Sure?”

Letting out a squeal, he practically flew around the table before flinging his arms around their shoulders the second they stood up. They stumbled from the impact, but wrapped their arms around his waist anyway.

He hummed and buried his face in their shoulder, glasses nearly falling off his face. “We love you, too,” he muttered. “So, so, _so_ much.”

“You’d better,” they teased.

He giggled, and then he sucked in a small gasp. “Oh, yeah! I’m Patton, by the way!”

Joan’s eyes flew wide open. “Oh! Uh… Nice to meet you.”

The two pulled apart, but Patton left his hands on their shoulders, beaming at them for a long moment. Joan couldn’t help but smile back.

Then, he winced and hissed, eyes squeezing shut. He lifted his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Are you okay?” Joan asked.

He groaned and slowly nodded. “Ah… headache… Patton, how many times do I have to tell you not to do that…?”

They frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Patton has the _atrocious_ habit of figuratively ripping control out of the hands of whomever is in the front when he feels any extreme emotions,” he explained. “It always leaves us with a terrible Switch Headache, and yet, he never learns.”

“Do you need Advil or something?” they asked, carefully putting a hand on his shoulder.

Shaking his head, he put his glasses back on, eyes remaining shut. “Pain relievers don’t affect these type of headaches, unfortunately. But I do appreciate the offer,” he replied. “Um… I believe I am still Logan, if there was any confusion.”

He took a slow, deep breath before carefully opening his eyes. Swallowing thickly, Logan glanced at the food and pressed his lips together.

“I suppose we need to finish eating,” he said.

The taste of burnt mushrooms hovered over Joan’s tongue. They shrugged. “I mean… if you’re not up for it, with that headache and all, we can always save it for later,” they suggested. “Wanna watch some Steven Universe?”

“Would you be alright with Jacques Cousteau, instead? I personally am not quite a fan of bright cartoons in general, and especially not when I have a headache.”

Joan nodded. “That makes sense. What’s Jacques Cousteau?”

Logan’s eyes lit up—they weren’t quite as bubbly as Patton’s, or as giddy as Thomas’s, but they sparkled in their own, unique manner. “Oh, it’s this wonderful documentary series from the 1970’s about marine biodiversity. Jacques Cousteau, the host, was a French film maker and marine explorer that had an extreme determination to teach…”

As Logan began to ramble on, he moved to lead them to the couch. Joan couldn’t help a fondness seep through their veins. He wasn’t Thomas. He wasn’t Patton. He wasn’t Virgil. He was his own person, one that Joan was going to get to know and learn about all over again.

Thomas and his system had to have gone through a lot to get to where they were now. Joan could only imagine what kind of pain, and shattering, and growth that he’d lived through. Their heart broke at the thought, but they couldn’t stop themselves from feeling proud of how far they’d come.

And they were going to be there for the rest of the journey.


End file.
